A Silent Christmas Carol
by ParanoidButterfly
Summary: [Complete]A parody of A Christmas Carol with my own little twist ;) Clarice is visited by her father's ghost who warns her to change...
1. A Visit From the Past

Hello! I know it's been done before, I think it may have even been done for H/SotL before, but here's my twist at the story anyway. I personally don't think it's the best thing in the world, but I'll let you decide that for yourself.   
  
Disclaimer: I don't own them, yada yada yada, but you know this already. And Merry Christmas :)   
  
A Silent Christmas Carol  
  
It was thirty years ago that my father died. Thirty years this very night. Those were the last happy years of my life.  
  
After his death, my work consumed me. Achievement and advancement were the gods who ruled over my life. After all, I had nothing more to live for; my only source of family was left dead. As dead as a doornail.  
  
But can doornails even die? No;Such nonsense is something that would come out of the mouth of that horrible Krendler... if he ever had a mouth to speak them out of any longer.  
  
It's a dark night tonight. The air sends shivers up my spine, raising hairs on my very neck, cutting through my heart like a sheet of ice.  
  
Ah, my home. A small but comfortable apartment in the heart of DC, only a mile from my work and that which I serve - the headquarters of the Federal Bureau of Investigation.   
  
I make my way to the door, a beige and fur jacket pulled smugly around my neck and over my long, red hair. The small number box in which permits entrance into the building is in the far off corner. As I approach, I pull of my glove. I go to punch in the code -  
  
- but the box isn't there.  
  
No, instead there sits the small and gentle brown eyes of my late father, his smile just the way I remember it.  
  
I open my mouth the scream, but no sound escapes my lips.   
  
I blink my eyes, but as they reopen, the only thing left there is the number box.  
  
I shake my head and punch in the code - 1121. Damn those mashed potatoes, I knew I shouldn't have ate them. That's the last time I ever stop at that cafe...  
  
I make my way up the first flight of stairs. Then the next, and the next, until I reach the fifth floor.  
  
I slowly open the door and walk in. Placing the coat in my closet, I retire to my room. With ease, I toss on a t-shirt and stripped boxers and head to bed. Within seconds, I'm in a deep slumber.  
  
But something awakes me. What the hell was that? It was a loud crash, and it continued to echo throughout my room. A small light glistened in a far off corner, swinging back and forth, disappearing as it moved one way, reappearing as it moved another. I squint my eyes for a closer look; It's the bell I inherited from my mother after she died.  
  
I walk up and lift the drapes of the window, in order to shut it and stop the breeze. However, the window's not open. How very odd.  
  
The bell rings faster and faster, clinking and clanking against it's bronze sides. I attempt to stop it by out stretching my hand, but quickly snap it back as the bell hits it, but doesn't slow at all.  
  
Suddenly, I hear footsteps. They're slow and soft, but the sound of clanking metal echoes with them. I quickly hurry over to my bed stand and grab my gun, flipping off the safety. I hide to the side of the door.  
  
The room grows cold and an eerie mist fills it. A foot, painted in white, enters the door way.  
  
"Who are you?!" I scream, twisting myself to the door, gun outstretched in front of me.  
  
But there's no need to ask that. It's obvious. The man is none other than my father.  
  
"Clare," he says, his voice old and worried. "Don't worry, it's only me."  
  
My body shakes, my gun slowly falling to my side in my utter shock. "But you're- you can't be-"  
  
"Dead? I am. But, indeed, it is true that I am here. I'm a spirit now, left to roam the earth for one hundred years, carrying these chains..."  
  
I look down, and see what he means. That's what the sound was, the clanking metal. These chains, but what are they for?   
  
He smiles, as if knowing my thoughts. "These chains represent the sins I committed during life. I created a long and mighty chain in my own. I must warn you, Clarice, that every day your chain grows longer, and soon it will be longer than even mine."  
  
I stare at him, taken aback by the words he has just spoken. "But me? I'm, I'm not a bad person, you weren't a ba-"  
  
"Life isn't measured by our kindness towards others or our thoughts, but by the mistakes we make and never try to fix. By how much our hearts can love.  
  
"You've stopped caring about people, Clare. I suppose you did that long ago. But there was still one person you always cared for, and you know who I speak of."  
  
My eyes refuse to leave his. I do know who he means.  
  
"You're not real!" I finally scream. "Leave me! Leave me at peace!" I say as I crash towards him, but find myself falling right through him, feeling as though I had just dived into an ice cold lake.   
  
I stare back to him again.  
  
"Your heart has closed, Clarice. If you don't change, you will soon be facing the same cold fate as me."  
  
Tears have begun to fall down my face. "It isn't true! It's not!"  
  
"You'll be visited by three spirits. They will guide you through your past, present, and the future of your soul. The first will come when the clock strikes one."  
  
"It's not true!" I find myself screaming. "There must be some mistake!" But I'm now speaking to nothing more than an empty room.  
  
I shake my head again. Was it all just a dream?  
  
That's all for now. Please review, that's what that little box is for. Tell me I suck for all I care, just review :) Ta ta 


	2. The First Visit

=) Thanks for the comments... disclaimers the same  
  
---  
  
Chapter Two: The First Visit  
  
I awake again with a start and quickly push the hair out of my face and stare to the clock. The red numbers are shining viciously into the night. One AM.  
  
"It was just a dream..." I assure myself aloud. "Just a dream."  
  
But the cracks around my door begin to glow. The light is becoming stronger and it's almost blinding now...  
  
A young girl is standing there, thin and short. Her long, straight blonde hair glitters in the light. I place my hand to my eyes to shield them from the light.   
  
"Sorry I'm late," she says softly. "Last person took longer than I thought he would."  
  
I stare at her, but can't find the words to say. Finally: "W-who are you?"  
  
She smiles sweetly. "I am the Ghost of Christmas Past."  
  
After a moment of silence she says "Take my hand."  
  
I slowly reach out to her.  
  
"Don't be afraid," she says, "You won't fall."  
  
Suddenly, we're flying. I can see my apartment complex, and then the street, and then the city, and now all I can see are the clouds over it all.  
  
I look up to her, past our connected hands. "Where are we going?" I ask.  
  
"To your memories," she says, as she gathers more speed.  
  
And as suddenly as it had all started, we had landed. We're now standing in front of a house, small and tattered. I know this house well.  
  
I gasp. "I grew up here..." I say slowly.  
  
She smiles, and with a blink of her eyes, we're inside.  
  
A woman with short, red hair stands in the kitchen, slaving a stove which holds a quality sized ham, dressing, corn and peas on top.  
  
I walk over to her. "Mom?" I ask, tears filing in my eyes. I expect her to turn to me, but she keeps cooking, as if ignoring me...  
  
"She can't hear you," the Ghost says with an almost sad tone. "She's only a memory."  
  
I turn my head to the living room. On the couch sits a red haired boy and a brown haired girl, reading a book together by the light of candles and the lights of the Christmas tree, laughing innocently.   
  
I walk over to them in amazement. "That's Bobby!" I screech. "And that's Cassandra! They're my brother and sister!"  
  
The Ghost smiles, but says nothing.  
  
Suddenly, the other door swings open and in walks the man I had seen already tonight - my father. In his arms he holds a little red haired girl.  
  
"That's me!" I say.  
  
My mother turns around. "Hello, Alfred. Hello, Clarice. Ready for dinner yet?"  
  
My father puts the miniature me on the ground and I run to my mother. "Yuppers!" Mini-myself screeches.   
  
Bobby and Cassandra hop up from the couch and race to the kitchen. My mother places the food down on the table as everyone takes a seat.  
  
The memory begins to fade.  
  
I turn to the ghost. "Do we have to leave?"  
  
"It is not a good thing to live in memories," she says.  
  
Suddenly, we're in a long corridor. Once again, I see a younger version of myself; However, she is older now. Bobby and Cassandra are there, too. Cassandra's around 14, Bobby, 12, and myself, 10.   
  
I watch as my mother walks out of a small room with her hand over her mouth.  
  
"No.." the real me mutters. "No, please, no..." I had relived this scene many times in my life.   
  
A young woman walks from the room my mother had just come from. I recognize her instantly.  
  
The ghost must have realized this. "You knew her before this, didn't you?"  
  
Still withholding tears from my eyes, I turn back to her. "My father was there for a month. I visited him everyday. Her name was Jackie. She helped me get through it..."  
  
Jackie walked out of the room, her short, blonde hair limp behind her and her green eyes dark and aged.  
  
"Your father's heart failed him. He's gone," she chokes. "I'm so sorry."  
  
There was no reaction on the face of the younger me and her siblings. After a slight pause, Cassandra rises and leaves the room.   
  
"Spirit, please. Don't torture me any longer."  
  
She stares ahead to the room where the Young Me has leaned against Bobby, clutching him for dear life.   
  
"What happened?" she asks.  
  
I turn back to the scene myself. "My mother had already decided that she couldn't raise three children on her own. She already had the arrangements made. Two men from the Social Services arrived an hour later. I went with one in his car, Bobby went with the other. It was the last time I ever saw my mother or siblings."  
  
The spirits face was saddened, but she still continued to stare.  
  
"Please, Spirit..."  
  
She sighs. "Very well."  
  
In a heartbeat, we're in a small room. There sits two beds, two desks, and a dresser. The rooms a mess.  
  
"My dorm room!" I screech happily. "I spent the best days of my life in this room."  
  
A door to the far left opens, and a younger version of me walks out. We look exactly alike, minus she appears to be around ten years younger. She pulls a large pile of books off of the crowded dresser and tosses them on the desk, taking a seat.  
  
The door opens again. A black girl with shoulder length, curly hair walks in.   
  
"Hey, Ardelia," the younger me says, looking up from her books with a smile.  
  
She stops in the center of the room. "Clarice, what on earth are you doing?"  
  
The younger me stares at her, confused. "Wha-? I'm.. studying?"  
  
"Three days before Christmas?" she squeaks. "Where are your bags?"  
  
The younger me shrugs. "Christmas is a time for family, Delia. I don't have a family anymore."  
  
"And what do you call me?" Ardelia says, with fake insult.  
  
"Well.. you're my best friend and.."  
  
"And I'm your sister. Now get your ass up and packed, you're coming home with me."  
  
The younger me stares up at her, gawking. "You serious?"  
  
"Of course," she says with a smile.  
  
The younger me jumps up from a chair and throws her arms around Ardelia. "I love you, Delia!"  
  
I turn to the Ghost. "I spent every Christmas after that with her. Her family accepted me like I was one of their own."  
  
"Why aren't you there this year?" She asks.  
  
I shrug. "After we graduated, it just kinda got old."  
  
Before I even have the chance to blink my eyes, we're in a dark and cold place. I can make out cells to the left and right of me, and a chair down at the far end. Squinting, I can see a younger me, talking to someone inside one of the cells.  
  
"Oh, God, no..." I say, as I jog up to the scene, the Ghost floating behind me.   
  
"Back so soon, Clarice?" The man asks. "It's Christmas Eve. Don't you have some where to be?"  
  
"I'm flying back there tonight, Doctor... now, please, just answer my questions."  
  
"You could spend it with me, you know," he says with a devilish grin across his lips.  
  
"Well, that's kind of you, Doctor, but really, can't you just ans-"  
  
"How was Christmas at the orphanage, Clarice?"  
  
"Doctor, plea-"  
  
"Quid pro quo. I just told what I know for the night, now please fill me in on that... wonderful event."  
  
The younger me sighs and looks to her feet for the answer. "We each got one present, it was donated by Old Man Richardson, who I guess had adopted a child from our orphanage before and was very pleased. There were organized activities, such as charades and a candy cane hunt. We played those most of the day. Then came dinner; One slice of ham, one scoop of potatoes, one roll, and a small glass of milk for each of us. A very slim cut piece of chocolate cake after dinner. It was better than even Thanksgiving to us. And then we were allowed to talk with our friends until ten o'clock, which was remarkably late at our age, and then we went to sleep. And the next day started over the same as the last."  
  
"Did you enjoy Christmases there, Clarice?"  
  
She looks up to his face, the lights hitting her face in odd angles. "No."  
  
"You were too good for them, weren't you?"  
  
"No, I ju-"  
  
"Hush, Clarice. I know you far better than you know even yourself."  
  
She stares at him for a second before rising. "I'm going to be late for my plane. Thank you, and Merry Christmas, Doctor Lecter."  
  
He smiles. "Merry Christmas, Clarice."  
  
The younger me begins to walk away, but not before: "Oh, Clarice..."  
  
She turns back to him. "Yes?"  
  
He smiles again. "Don't worry. You are better than them."  
  
Neither the Ghost nor I say anything. There isn't anything to say.  
  
With another blink of her eyes, we're in a small room, a tree tucked away in a far corner, the smell of food strong in all our noses. But, in the other corner, sits Ardelia and a younger me, me with a phone in my hands.  
  
"Yes, I understand. I just thought that maybe you would like to see me. It's been over twelve years. Yes, I understand that. I said I understand, I'm not ten anymore. That's fine. I'm hanging up now, I won't contact you again. Sorry for interrupting your perfect life," I see the younger me saying, as she slams the phone down.  
  
"Oh, Clarice..." Ardelia says, placing her arm around me.  
  
"She knew that Bobby had passed away," the younger me says, crying. "She knew Mom had died because she went back to live with her when she was sixteen. She's married to a man named Michael now, and she has two children, Veronica, who's seven, and Robbie, who's five. She doesn't want to see me because her children don't know they have an aunt, and she doesn't want me.." the younger me sobs, "in her life... she said she wants nothing to do with me."  
  
"Oh, C," she says, hugging the younger me tighter. "I'm so sorry."  
  
"I was heartbroken," I say to the Ghost. "I had my hopes up so high, I wanted to see her again so badly."  
  
The Ghost doesn't speak, but the memory has changed again.   
  
I see myself. My hair is in a long pony tail, stuck in a refrigerator. The other me looks panicked, but she's trying to hide it.  
  
Doctor Lecter is now hovering over me.  
  
"Tell me, Clarice.. would you ever say to me 'Stop... if you loved me, you'd stop'?" He asks her.  
  
There's a pause. "Not in a thousand years."  
  
"I didn't want to say that, I didn't!" I screech to the Ghost, but she still doesn't speak.   
  
"'Not in a thousand years'. That's my girl."   
  
I watch as he leans in to kiss the younger me and find myself yelling "Kiss him back, you fool! Kiss him back!"  
  
But all that happens is a click as a tear rolls down her cheek.  
  
"Well, isn't this nice, Clarice? Just when I was pressed for time. Where's the key?" and then a pause, as she doesn't answer. "Where's the key?!"  
  
Both the real me and the other watch in horror as he grabs a butcher knife from the table and sizes it around the other me's wrist. "Above or below the wrist, Clarice?"  
  
She stares at him, horrified, as he lifts the knife into the air.  
  
"But this didn't happen on Christmas!" I scream, trying to turn away, but find that I can't.  
  
"It doesn't matter. It haunts you the most," she finally says.  
  
"This is really going to hurt, you know," Doctor Lecter says, as he begins to drop the knife.  
  
"STOP!" The other me screams. "Stop, stop, stop! If you loved me, you'd stop!"  
  
The knife clatters to the side with a bang.  
  
"Where's the key?"  
  
Another tear falls down her cheek. "In the back of my dress. Let me out and I'll get it for you."  
  
He eyes her suspiciously for a moment, and pries open the door. She steps forward and reaches into her dress, unlocking the cuffs.  
  
"I'm sorry," she says, more tears falling.  
  
He looks at her - or should I say me? - as if contemplating her meaning.   
  
"I was just trying to do my job," the other me says.  
  
And, taking both of us completely by surprise, he says "Come with me."  
  
She looks down. "Doctor, there is nothing that would please me more..."  
  
"Then go with him, Fool!" I scream to the other me.  
  
"... But I can't. You know I can't."  
  
"They'll never find us, Clarice."  
  
More tears flood down her face. "I can't."  
  
He stares at her for a second. "Very well, then."  
  
"You should go... now, take the back door, I'll cover up here."  
  
He nods.   
  
"Goodbye, Hannibal," she says softly.  
  
"Goodbye, Clarice."  
  
"You idiot! Why didn't you go?! Why?!" I scream, as the memory fades. "Spirit, torture me no longer! Take me home! Take me home!"  
  
"Very well, but you must think about what you learned tonight. And remember to expect the next Ghost when the clock strikes two."  
  
The black void around us fades away, as does the Ghost. I'm suddenly back in my bed, safe again, the clock at 1:45 AM.   
  
And I find myself crying, alone in the darkness. 


	3. Visit Number Two

Chapter Three: Visit Number Two  
  
I lie awake, staring blankly at the ceiling. The numbers tick slowly away... 1:46... 1:47...  
  
The clock moves to 1:50 and a loud clatter rings out through the house. I jump and move swiftly out of bed, tip-toeing my way out to the hall. At the end, I can see a faint light.  
  
I inch my way toward the room, the laughter is heavy and the clanking together of plates echoes even louder.  
  
I place my hand on the corner wall and slowly turn around. I'm sure I would scream on a general occasion, but all my mouth can do is hit the floor.   
  
"Well, hello!" the man yells, in an almost too jolly voice, as he swings his enormous wine goblet to his mouth.   
  
The man is a giant! He was sitting on the floor, leaning over in order to fit in the room. He was covered in his own curly red hair and beard.   
  
"Who are you? I ask, most likely with twisted horror on my face.  
  
"Me?" He says with a laugh and moves his enormous hands to his equally enormous knees. "I'm the Ghost of Christmas Present. Why, didn't Past warn ya?"  
  
Still in shock, I say, "But she was so little... and you're so..."  
  
He laughs another hearty laugh. "It's all right, M'Dear. Now we should be getting down to business. Take my sleeve."  
  
I inch forward as he moves his arm towards me. In one fluid and leaping motion, my hand snatches the fabric...  
  
"Where are we?" I ask, glancing around. We're obviously in an alley, for dumpsters line both sides of the melting-snow covered streets.  
  
"Shh, watch," he says, pointing to a far corner.   
  
Behind the lid of the dumpster, protected by nothing more than a blanket, old and ragged, sits a woman cradling a baby, and another young girl sitting next to her, the dirt on all of their faces clashing viciously with their blonde hair.   
  
"I hate this!" the little girl cries.  
  
The mother wraps one arm around her. "Oh, Baby, I know. But it will all be over soon."  
  
"But Daddy didn't do anything wrong!" The girl protests. "He didn't do anything wrong, did he, Mommy?"  
  
She smiles softly down at the girl. "No, your Daddy didn't do anything wrong. And the good lawyers will prove that, ok?"  
  
The girl looks down as her mother brushes strands of hair from her eyes.   
  
"Who are they?" I ask, moving my head upward to see his face.  
  
"Last week you arrested a man on planted evidence," He said, razing an eyebrow to me. "You knew it was planted. You knew it was planted because your partner planted it."  
  
I look down to the icy ground which stands beneath me. "But what was I supposed to do? He's my partner, I can't just rat on him... I mean, I know it would be right, but it would be so hard to prove, and I'd risk losing my job again for the second time in only a year..."  
  
He shook his head. "Those are his wife and children. They lost everything when he was arrested. They'll remain living on the streets if he doesn't come back. And the baby... the baby is very ill. He will surely die if his father isn't released."  
  
I look to the baby and up to the giant. "But what can I do?" I ask.  
  
"You know what to do," he says with an ironic sort of laugh.  
  
"But I can't do that!"  
  
"Because your heart is closed. You care only of yourself."  
  
"Now that is not fai-"  
  
The little baby begins to cough.  
  
"Jenna, help me cover him up," the mother yells to the little girl. Jenna crawls to the front of her mother and leans over the baby.  
  
"He will die within days," says the giant, slowly.  
  
I cannot speak. I don't have the words to say.  
  
I watch as the world around me fades away, and slowly a brighter one replaces it. There's laughter and the familiar clanking of dishes, and Christmas lights and trees and decorations. Two little children sit playing in front of a bright fire.  
  
"Ardelia, is Clarice coming this year?" an elderly black woman asks, looking up from her cooking.  
  
Ardelia, now older, but not looking a day over what she had the last time I had seen her, turns her head from the food she had also been preparing. "You've asked that for the last nine years, Mom," she responds, with a little laugh, full of regret.   
  
Her mom smiles and shrugs. "Just thought I'd ask."  
  
Ardelia turns from the cutting board again, taking two slices of tomatoes with her. "Eddie! Clarice! I have tomatoes!"  
  
The two children abandon their board game and race to the kitchen, each taking a slice from her hands. They hug her and mutter "Thanks, Mama," between bites, before racing back to their game again.  
  
"So adorable, the both of them," Her mother says with a smile.   
  
Ardelia smiles, too, before turning back to her work.  
  
The scene fades again, leaving the large house of an obviously wealthy family to that of a small one, the size of almost a cabin. However, the house is just as decorated, and just as much laughter fills it's tiny walls.  
  
"Now, Cassandra, that is really not fair," laughs a man, sitting against a large window which holds snow covered mountains in the background.  
  
Cassandra sits at the table, leaning over to where she rests on her elbows. She smiles back, her brown hair in a messy bow. "Who are you to tell me what is and isn't fair, Michael Watson?"  
  
He laughs again as a young girl, her hair waist length and brown, walks into the room. At the sight of Michael, she screeches "Daddy!" and runs to hug him.  
  
He hugs her back. "Oh, it's been so long, Veronica."  
  
She pulls back from the hug, a large smile on her face. "I know! Well, come on! Robbie and Lily will want to see you, too!" She says, pulling him off the window sill and out of the room.   
  
"Wait, let me say goodbye to the world's most often married woman," he says, leaning over and kissing Cassandra on the cheek.  
  
"Oh, thank you, Michael," she says, rolling her eyes and lifting from her seat, her old fashioned dress flowing behind her.   
  
"How many times has she been married?" I ask the Ghost, almost afraid of the answer.  
  
"Ten," he says with a small laugh. "Just married the last one a week ago."  
  
"Ten?" I say, a look of awe on my face, but the opening door takes my attention away.  
  
Cassandra claps her hands together as she turns away from the stove. "Richard! Perfect timing!" She walks over to him for a kiss on her cheek.  
  
"Is dinner ready?" he asks, placing his hat on the stand behind the door.  
  
"Yes," she says, taking his hand and leading him into the living room.  
  
I follow, but the Ghost is having a rather hard time.   
  
"Go on ahead," he says with a laugh. "I'll be there in a second."  
  
I shrug and walk to the other room.  
  
The sight is overwhelming. A large, food covered table sits in the middle of the room, faces surrounding it. I see Michael sitting next to Veronica, and he's talking contently to boy of about 15 next to him, who I assume to be Robbie. Next to Robbie, a younger girl tries to join the conversation. I figure she's Lily.  
  
But the people besides them, I have no idea. There sits three other grown men, four other girls, all under the age of ten, and three young boys, all under the age of ten as well. Cassandra stands at the head of the table, her arm locked with Richard's.  
  
"Welcome to dinner!" Cassandra says, a radiant smile upon her face. "Please, everyone, find a seat!"  
  
"I can't believe I'm doing this again," one of the men who had been standing next to me says to the other two as they scamper to seats saved for them by children.  
  
The Ghost arrives at my side. "Ah, Miss Cassandra Starling's Christmas dinner. It's the talk of the town."  
  
I look up at him. "Why?"  
  
"Well, don't you see? Every year, she invites all of her exes. Now I said she was married ten times, but she's dated about twenty more than that. And everyone of them gets an invitation. At first, most of them came. Then only the ex-husbands. This year, only those with children have shown."  
  
"Cassandra Anne Starling," I say with a shake of my head.  
  
The Ghost laughs.   
  
We stay and watch for a few minutes. My sister prances around the table, bothering her exes, fixing her children. The talk is so loud that I can't capture no one conversation.   
  
"Ah, it doesn't get anymore interesting than this," the Ghost says, as he snaps his fingers and the scene seems to almost shatter and crumble before my eyes.  
  
The house we're in now is large and dark, but a tree sits in one far off corner. Beautiful classical music is pouring out of a speakers placed all around the room.  
  
I look out the window. The sun is just barely setting over a large pool, surrounded by a large fence of thick bushes and trees. An expensive car, I can't make out which type from where I stand, sits parked next to the pool.   
  
"Where are we?" I ask the Ghost, but he gives me an odd sort of look and doesn't answer.  
  
I walk forward into a beautiful dining room. Only one place is set at the table, but the plate and utensils are all gold and seem to sparkle due to the light pouring out of the chandler overhead. I can smell a beautiful scented dinner coming from the other room.   
  
I turn to go there, but something catches my eye. Behind the table stands a large fire place, and on it's mantel are picture frames. I move in closer.  
  
In each of those picture frames are portraits of a smiling, red haired woman. Each picture is of me.  
  
I turn, confused, to the kitchen. I walk up to the door and slowly push it open.  
  
Then I see him. Standing over a stove, a bottle of wine on the counter. Dr. Lecter.  
  
With a swift turn of the frying pan on the stove, he empties it onto a large plate which matches the other. He takes that and another small plate and leaves the room. He returns once again for the wine and this time I follow him back out of the room.  
  
He pours the wine into the glass and takes a seat. He makes his plate of what he's just brought from the kitchen and begins to eat, completely unaware of the presence of someone else.  
  
With a turn of his head, he glances out the large window to the left of the table. He gracefully takes the wine glass in his hand and lifts it to the moon outside.   
  
"Merry Christmas, Clarice," he says, as he then takes a drink.  
  
I place my hand on his shoulder, although he doesn't know. "Merry Christmas, Dr. Lecter."  
  
The image fades away once more, and soon, my hand is doing nothing but extending into the cold, night's air.  
  
I bring my arms around me, suddenly aware of the chill. I look around, but can't put together what this place is.  
  
"Where are we?" I ask, my hair blowing in my face as I turn my head back to the Ghost. A look of concern is painted on his face.  
  
"I leave you here," he says softly. "You'll meet the next Ghost when the clock strikes three."  
  
"Where are we?" I shout again, but he doesn't answer. His body is starting to fade away in the same way the events he had shown me had.  
  
"Don't leave me!" I scream. "You can't just leave me here!"   
  
But I am no longer staring at a giant. Now that he has gone, I can fully see what was behind him. A large clock which stabs the sky.  
  
2:59 AM. 


	4. The Last Visit

Chapter Four: The Last Visit  
  
The clock's hand seems to take an eternity to finally move. But, before I know it, the clock reads three AM.  
  
The air seems to become colder, if that was at all possible, and I glance around, but there is no sign of a Ghost.   
  
"Hello?!" I scream, but the only reply is the echo of my own voice.  
  
Then, without warning, a figure appears at the top of a hill. "Hello?" I scream, but it doesn't reply.  
  
He doesn't walk over to me, but floats, his long black robes flowing. I cannot see his face, it's covered by a large hood which he does not remove.  
  
"Are you the next Ghost?" I ask, and he nods.  
  
"The Ghost of Christmas Future?" I ask, and once again, he responds with a nod.  
  
He points, without really having fingers or a hand, to the right of me, and as I look, the world is filled with a blinding light.  
  
When the light settles, I can see a small alley. There is no light at all.  
  
"Mommy?" I hear a small voice ask.   
  
"Yes, Honey?" the woman responds, her voice shaking.  
  
I walk over to where the sound is coming from. Behind the dumpster sits the same family I had seen early this very night.  
  
The baby begins to cough.  
  
"Oh, Jenna, hurry!" the mother yells, covering the baby. I watch as Jenna, too, comes over and wraps her body around the child, but the coughing is becoming worse.   
  
"Come in closer, Honey," she says to Jenna, and I watch as they both completely cover the baby. However, it doesn't help at all, and the baby continues to cough and draw in sharp breaths, all while trying to cry.  
  
And then the sound stops. In the middle of drawing in another breath, the sound just ends.  
  
"Jenna... move..." the mother says, concern in her voice.  
  
Jenna moves from where she had been and retreats to her corner behind the dumpster.  
  
"Ricky?" she asks the baby. "Ricky?" She touches the babies face. "Ricky? Please, Ricky..." She gently shakes the child. She tries pinching him, poking him. But all is silent.  
  
"Ricky..." she gasps.  
  
"No..." I whisper. "No, Spirit, please tell me it isn't true... please..."  
  
He still says nothing.   
  
"Mommy?" Jenna asks from her corner. "Mommy, is Ricky..."  
  
The mother screams. Her whole body shakes with pain and heartbreak.   
  
The little girl pulls her knees to her chest and begins to sob as well.  
  
"Spirit, please! Please, tell me this hasn't really happened!" I scream.  
  
The image before me fades away.   
  
Sunlight fills the sky around me. There are large hills covered in vibrant green grass, and large trees which are abundant in their fruits. A large mansion sits before it all.  
  
Behind each tree stands a SWAT team member. I see myself standing behind one tree with one.   
  
I look ill. I watch myself watching the house, and I can see the regret in my eyes.   
  
"Here he comes!" echoes through the walkie talkie I hold.   
  
The other me tosses her hand in the air, singling a "get ready" type of thing.  
  
As if in slow motion, the front door opens. Dr. Lecter walks out.  
  
"No!" The real me screams. "No, no, no, no, no!"  
  
Five SWAT members surround him. I can't hear what they say, but I watch as Dr. Lecter starts to give in to them. When one man puts down his gun to place hand cuffs around him, he darts, dragging the man in front of him.  
  
And then a shot rings out. And he falls to the ground.  
  
The other me covers her mouth as the SWAT team members around her run down to the scene. Tears are forming in her eyes. She's paralyzed with emotion... fear, anger, depression.  
  
The real me is stuck in the same way.   
  
"NO!" I find myself screaming at the top of my lungs. "NO! Spirit! Say this won't happen! Say it won't!"  
  
He doesn't respond. He only stares.  
  
I collapse to my knees, face in my hands. If it weren't for the great amount of sound around me, I would have never noticed that we once again had moved on.  
  
I look up from my hands. People rush around about me.   
  
I follow the Ghost as he moves to a corner. I see there the woman who I had seen for the first time in thirty years only tonight. My sister Cassandra.  
  
"I just feel so horrible," she cries into the shirt of a man I hadn't seen before. "She's my children's aunt and none of them ever had the chance to meet her. I feel horrible, Louis, just horrible."  
  
"What?" I whisper, half to myself, half to the Ghost, who I've realized by now, will never respond.  
  
I follow him as he moves again. Ardelia stands here, her husband next to her, his arms over her two children. Her mother stands next to her, arms around Ardelia's shoulders.  
  
"I know it's hard, Dear," her mother says.  
  
"All that time... and I never knew... I had no idea," Ardelia says, with barely any heart at all.   
  
"Sometimes we just don't know things about people, Delia!"  
  
"But, Mom, she was my best friend! It was my job to know her! It was my job to know her and I didn't... I didn't even know she was hurting, and I didn't help... I just left her."  
  
Clarice, Ardelia's daughter, walks up to her and takes her hand. "She would want you to be happy, Mommy," she says, with a smile on her face. "She would want you to be happy because she was sad, and she wouldn't want you to be sad, too."  
  
A few tears finally fall down Ardelia's face as she hugs Clarice. "You're right, C," she says with a smile.   
  
I follow the Ghost as he moves once again.  
  
"I got this from her house," says an older woman dressed in barely anything more than rags. "Worth anything?"  
  
I watch as she pulls my infamous black dress from her bag.  
  
The man who she was speaking to examines it closely. "Something. I'll give you fifty for it."  
  
"Fifty?!" She exclaims. "It's worth more than fifty!"  
  
Two other women approach the scene. "Oh move out of the way, Tina," one says. "Look here, Arnold," she says to the man as she pulls a case full of audio cassettes from her bag. "Her and that Dr. Lecter, all right here..."  
  
He scratches his chin. "Two hundred," he says at last.  
  
"Two hundred?!" The woman Tina yells. "Two hundred?! And you give me fifty?!"   
  
"Would you prefer twenty-five?" He asks in a dry tone.  
  
She stares at him with hatred.  
  
"You need to both move out of the way," says the third, slyly. She's the only one who looks like a remotely normal citizen. She wears a black dress, and her black hair is pulled back behind her.   
  
"And I'm sure you've got something better, Sylvia," says the second woman with an annoyed tone.  
  
Sylvia stalks up to her. "Trash needn't speak with such tones, Rena."  
  
They both stare to each other for a minute before Sylvia turns with a small smile. She opens her large bag and pulls out a dark red book.  
  
"What's this?" Arnold asks, flipping it over in his hands.  
  
"No, no, no..." I whisper.  
  
"'The Diary of Clarice Starling'... couldn't you see how that would sell?" She asks, a smile now across her whole face.  
  
He looked up to her, amazed. "A thousand," he says.   
  
She places her hand on the book. "And 10% of whatever you make off it."  
  
He glances down and then back to her. "It's a deal."  
  
"But that's mine!" I yell. "That's mine! They can't just take it!"  
  
But the scene has faded away again, and we're back where we started, in the cold, dark, and deserted place.  
  
However, this time, I realize where we are. We're in a cemetery. An old and battered one.  
  
"Spirit..." I whisper. He responds by pointing to the top of the hill which he had came from.  
  
I walk slowly over to it and then up it's steep slope.  
  
At the very top, sits a small grave. An angel statue sits on top, but it's been unvisited for what seems to be years, due to the amount of grass grown upon the bottom and the cobwebs which completely cover it.  
  
"What's this?" I ask, but the Ghost of course does not respond.  
  
I walk forward to it, bending down to it's height, and move away a thick layer of webs from it's surface.  
  
CLARICE STARLING  
  
I back away from it, stumbling over a tree root which had grown around the grave as well.   
  
I turn back to the Ghost and crawl over to him. Grabbing his robes, I beg "Please! Please tell me it isn't true! Please tell me it can be changed! Please, Spirit!" Tears are falling down my face, mixing with the dirt and his robes. "Please, Spirit..."  
  
But without warning, I am grabbed by two men. I can't make out who they are, it's too dark, but I feel them dragging me, kicking me, and finally dropping me...  
  
And then I'm falling... Falling to the hole in the ground... Falling to my death... 


	5. A New Beginning

Chapter Five: A New Beginning  
  
I awake from sleep with a jump, and as reality hits me, I stumble out of my bed and stare to the clock. 9 AM.  
  
The sun beams shine through the window, breaking over the floor. I brush my hair behind my head and run for my computer room.  
  
Hitting off the screen saver, I race the mouse to the bottom right-hand corner. December 25th.  
  
I let out a small scream. "I haven't missed it!" I yell to the empty house. "I haven't missed it yet!"  
  
I run back to my room and throw on my clothes for the day; A pair of jeans, a green sweater, and a red scarf.  
  
I race out of the apartment complex and out to the street. Starting my car, I start off to the city.  
  
An hour passes. After searching every alley, I've found the one from last night.  
  
I park my car at the end and step out.   
  
"Hello?" I yell.  
  
The head of a little blonde hair girl pops out from behind a dumpster. I smile at her before she quickly yanks back behind.  
  
"You're Jenna, aren't you?" I call.   
  
She walks back from behind the dumpster again.   
  
"Jenna, don't," says the voice of her mother, as her hand extends and pulls her back behind.  
  
I walk over to them and lean down. "My name's Clarice," I say softly.  
  
The mother, cradling the baby, looks up at me. "What do you want with us?"  
  
"I heard your story," I say, softly. "Please, take this money and go get some food and a doctor for your baby."  
  
I hand her an envelope. She takes it with caution, and slowly opens it.  
  
"Why, there's a thousand dollars here," she says, a look of pure gratitude in her eyes.  
  
"It's the least I can do," I say with a smile.   
  
Jenna runs up to me and hugs me. "Thank you, Clarice!" She says.  
  
I smile down at her and then to her mother. "Merry Christmas."  
  
"Merry Christmas," she says back.  
  
With one last look, I climb back into my car and drive off.   
  
Within ten minutes, I've parked my car at the airport and purchased a ticket for Maine. And in another two hours, at noon, I've landed and driven the half hour to Ardelia's mother's.  
  
I walk to the door of their overwhelmingly large house and knock on it's red paint. The door swings open.  
  
"Clarice!" Ardelia screams, throwing her arms around me.   
  
I laugh, making my way inside the house.   
  
Everyone inside has stopped what they were doing; Ardelia's mother holds a pan in her hands, the children are staring up from their game, and her husband has put down his book.   
  
"Clarice!" Her mother finally exclaims. "See, Delia? I told you she'd be back one of these times..."  
  
"Aunty Clarice!" The younger Clarice yells to me, as she races to me and embraces my legs. Her brother soon does the same.  
  
"How are you, Clarice?" asks Ardelia's husband, extending his hand.  
  
I shake it with a smile. "Never better."  
  
***   
  
After a long day with Ardelia's family, I've finally gotten the chance to use their computer, and sit down to type a letter to our director about the evidence incident.  
  
"How's that sound, Delia?" I ask, handing her the freshly printed paper.  
  
She sighs. "It's a long shot, Clarice, but I hope it works. That family doesn't deserve this."  
  
I shake my head. "They're the last people on earth who do."  
  
She smiles, handing me back the letter.  
  
"I'm heading off to bed," she says, getting up. "Merry Christmas, C. Thanks for coming."  
  
I hug her, following her out the door and to my own room. "It's my pleasure. Merry Christmas, Delia."  
  
I walk in and shut the door behind me. The room is beautiful; A large bed with flowing canopy, and a balcony off to the side.  
  
I toss off my scarf and change into the boxers and shirt I had grabbed that morning. I go to retire, but the urge to walk out to the balcony suddenly hits me.  
  
Quietly, I walk over and open the door. It's freezing outside, but I go out for a quick moment anyway. The view over the Mapp Family's land is unbelievable...  
  
"Clarice," I hear a voice say.  
  
I look down, but can't make out who it is. The figure moves backwards and the moonlight hits a pair of dark, maroon eyes.  
  
"Doctor?" I ask.  
  
"Who else, My Dear?" He says with a twisted smile.  
  
I smile back. "It's freezing. Come up here."  
  
"You know I can't, Clarice," he replies, with a slightly annoyed tone.  
  
I glance down. It had been a stupid thing to say.  
  
"I needed to see you again. I needed to know if those lambs were still screaming."  
  
I shrug. "Only slightly."  
  
He smiles. "I should leave you now. Have a merry, merry Christmas, Clarice."  
  
"Wait..." I say, as he turns to leave.   
  
He turns around, with a raise of his eyebrows.  
  
"Take me with you," I say, shocking even myself.  
  
"You could never go back," he says, his tone serious and questioning. "You have to be sure."  
  
"I've never wanted anything more," I say, with a small smile.  
  
***  
  
Within minutes, I've packed, dressed, and left a small note to Ardelia, in apology of my quick leaving.   
  
I toss my bag down to the lawn and climb down to the ground using the piping.   
  
"There is one last thing I'd like to do, though," I say as we walk across the yard and to a car hidden deep within the trees.   
  
"Yes?" he asks.  
  
"I'd like to make a stop in West Virginia to visit my sister, Cassandra, and meet my nieces and nephews."  
  
"Then it will be done," he says, opening the passenger side door for me, and tossing my bag into the trunk.  
  
"Merry Christmas, Clarice," he says again, as he climbs in, a faint smile on his face.  
  
"Merry Christmas, Hannibal," I say, leaning against his shoulder.  
  
And we drive off into the darkness, nothing but the moon lighting our way.  
  
***  
  
Ah, I don't like this chapter much, but hopefully you did =) Merry Christmas, fellow Lecterphiles XD 


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